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Shades of Grey
'Lightholder Tavern ' ---- ::It is said - primarily by the proprietor, a jovial merchant-classer named Solas Creek - that all roads in Fastheld lead to the Lightholder Tavern. On any given night, it's not hard to see why he might justify such a claim. ::''The pub, which started centuries ago as a small refreshment wagon for laborers building Fastheld Keep atop Caryas Hill, sees boisterous crowds filling its rafters with laughter and pipe smoke at all hours of the day and night as travelers make their way through the realm. ::''About three dozen tables are arranged among the polished wooden columns on which hang the wrought-iron lanterns that help give the tavern its name. Solas or one of his assistants can usually be found working behind a wide C-shaped counter, serving mugs of keg-tapped ale to thirsty patrons who stand at the bar. ::''The floor is strewn with amber rushes, except in a circle of about twenty feet in diameter, where the stone fireplace and chimney rise toward the ceiling. ---- Sir Wagsalot has one paw in the hand of Milora Lomasa, who is sitting comfortably in a chair at the end of the room. Her gloves are off and lying on the table next to a bottle of mead and a half-full glass. It happens that the tavern is busy enough to have a gentle din, but the bold blue of Milora's dress stands out against the earth tones of the freelanders' garb. Barechested... and remarkably well, given the last week or so (though that remarkable shiner, starting to fade, is an even more impressive array of colours around his right eye) - A certain greying freelander makes his way carefully into the Tavern, pausing to let his eyes adjust to the dim. Absently, he picks a twig out of that mass of unruly (at the moment) hair, idly tossing it into a corner before heading for the long bar. "Oi, Greengrass.." It's friendly - "y' still owe m' stew, y' remember?" The newcomer is easily spotted by the girl at the table; in fact, she might just have been watching the door. "Go get him!" she says brightly to Wags, who does not appear impressed with the idea of chasing after an inoffensive guest. "Oh, well." Patting the dog on the head, Milora seizes her mead bottle by the neck and moseys up to the bar. "Well, hello there," she greets evenly. Oh, Kael turns at that, a bit startled - oddly, he's gittery enough that the first words of that simple greeting are met with a bit of a nervous turn, a hand twitching toward the kukri at his belt. Once he focuses on /Milora/, however... He smiles, widely. "Milora.. " Relieved, that - "Woul' nae hae expected t' see ye here." Drawing back slightly on instinct, Milora looks at Kael with wide eyes. "I wouldn't have expected it were I you either," she concedes. "I am never here, but I am here today. I have some business in the area." She furrows her eyebrows curiously. "It has been a long time, Kael." Oh, he relaxes, nonthreatening in an eyeblink, putting his back to the bar and grinning warmly at her - "aye. 't has. I been up through East Leg, but ne'er really saw ye about. M'.. sort o' stayin' away from Riverhold, though; guess 't makes sense. Norran 's a good sort, but 'e donnae much like m' still.. probably best I donnae make 'm angry, aye?" With a gentle sigh, Milora places her mead bottle on the bar and turns to mimic Kael's stance. She leans against it, relaxed, but with an eyebrow raised. "May I ask what my Duke has done this time?" That's a little bit wry, as though Milora is forcing patience. "nothin'. E's jus' nae in th' same world I am. 'es a noble, m' nae. M' Touched, 'es nae. We cannae see th' world in th' same way, aye?" Kael's quite serious. "Th' stronger I get, th' more I see, th' less I kin understand 'm, an' th' less he kin understand o' what 'm tryin' t' tell him, either." Tilting her head towards the man, Milora gives a gentle quirk of her eyebrows and then tilts her head in the other direction. "What exactly is it that you are trying to tell him, Kael?" she asks softly. "Have patience with us. We do not all have your mental capabilities." A flash of something - even anger - in Milora's face; she shakes her head and seats herself, dropping her chin onto one hand and rolling her eyes forlornly in Kael's direction. "Me holding up. Aha - of course I am, Kael, don't worry. What have I to worry about, anyway?" She waves a hand vaguely, tracing a rough circle in the air. "I am so lucky to be babied by all of those around me. They are so kind, you know, Kael - rather than tell me what I think I would like to know, they keep me ignorant and blissful. Very damn well, I say. ... Perhaps you should take this mead away from me." He startles at that - but grins, wryly, then. "nae a chance - yer a heck o' a lot more innerestin' with it, seems t' me." Kael studies her, seriously. "so what /woul'/ ye like t' figure, then, Milora?" "Well, good, then you can find me another glass because I seem to have misplaced my old one." She blinks, looking around her before glancing back to Kael. "Absolutely everything, Kael. You, for one. Do you know that you are the singular cause of most of my worries?" She rolls her eyes and tilts her head toward him again, glancing upward. "What is the matter with you, anyway? You treat me just as though I'm a child or worse. Have I done something wrong?" "... I do?" Kael blinks - ".. m' sorry. Were nae sommat I set out t' do - " He truly seems confused at the thought. "s' far 's I ken, y' hae nae, no. S' nothin' wrong, what I kin see, 'cept 'm twitchy, as o' late." Obtaining another glass from the counter, Milora pours herself a good amount of mead and tilts her head back, consuming just more than a fourth of it in a very short time. "I don't know if I fully believe that," she says bitterly. "I hate being kept in the dark about everything. No one who knows anything seems to want to share the information. I think it's just damnable - can you imagine? Kael, may I ask you a very serious question?" she asks, turning her whole body in his direction. "Leaning forward, almost conspiratorially: "Do you /really/ think I ought to marry Norran?" she asks, furrowing her eyebrows. "I mean, I understand that nobles and unShadow people are all bumbling fools to your mind, and the two of us are of course /hopelessly/ misguided, but beyond that. Ought I really marry him?" She pauses. "I mean /him/. I must, because it is good for my family and I will be off of my father's shoulders and I love him and /all of that/...but tell me what you think." Odd, the sudden wry expression that comes across that young man's face. "S' a rotten thing o' ye t' say. S' nae true, either." He shakes his head. "But.. if y' ask? I dunno. I'm nae one t' really understand marryin', most o' th' time. I mean, 'es a Good man; 'es slept wi' jus' about everythin' what let 'm, an' tried wi' some what hae nae.. donnae let 'm tell ye otherwise. Wi' he hurt ye? Nae direct.. 'e jus' donnae think sometimes. S' his way. I cannae tell ye whether 's wise o' no. If ye were m' sister, I woul' be threatenin' him a'ready." "Ha!" Milora has been nursing her drink exuberantly for the duration of this speech, and shakes her head. "As you like it, Kael. Thank you for your kind blessing ... and it is too a rotten thing of me to say and it is so true," she protests, frowning as she runs a finger around the edge of her glass. "And of course, nothing unShadow can possibly understand what it is like to be hated or ostracized and no noblew-/person/ can possibly understand what it is to be looked down at or sneered at or treated with condescension or treated like a child or treated like a dog or to look at herself in the mirror in the morning and know that she's /less than/ almost everyone else." She throws back her head, downing the last bit of her mead and then setting the glass carefully back on the counter. "do ye?" Kael smiles, wryly, still. "s' funny. I donnae much understand m'self - " He sighs... looking back to ask for - and get - a tankard of simple water, taking the time to, it seems, compose his thoughts. "Walk wi' me? I been inside too much, as o' late.. th' walls get close after a bit. Wi' bring back th' mugs after are done, aye?" He stands up - and offers a hand. "sounds t' me like ye an' I both got quite a bit t' talk about." She gets up, rather reluctantly, and shakes her head. "I hate walking with my hands full. I may as well leave it here - it's practically gone." Tucking a thick curl behind her ear, she shakes her head and follows Kael. He.. idly rubs that hand against his breeches-leg, oddly, wincing a bit. "Wi' nae go far. S' a nice spot t' be, down by th' river. S' pretty out, 't least." He leads on, even as he asks - "Y' shoul' start at the beginnin' - what hae ye bitter, as y' are? 't donnae suit ye." '''Lightholder Crossroads - Interdistrict Carriage Hub ' ---- ::A small village has sprouted on the edge of the Lightholder River where the cobblestone roads from Fastheld's other prominent districts intersect, in the shadow of Caryas Hill and the majestic gray silhouette of Fastheld Keep – the seat of power for the entire realm. ::''Sutlers, traveling performers and other small-time merchants ply their trades along this main crossroads - competing for space with carriages hauling passengers, couriers rushing important communiques from one district to another, and the soldiers of the Emperor's Blades who regularly patrol the area. ::''On the northwest corner of the intersection, next to the road that twists north toward Lightholder Bridge and the palace, sits a large tavern and inn where weary travelers can refresh themselves. ---- "Bitter? I'm not bitter, I'm perfectly sweet. See these pink cheeks?" Her cheeks are actually quite pale. Her gait is not as steady or as graceful as usual, but she doesn't seem to have much difficulty walking. "You're imagining things, and if I'm bitter it's only because of you. You made me a promise, Kael, and I don't think you've kept it, and I have not very much patience at all for people who don't keep their promises." He blinks... and actually flinches at that. ".. I.. what did I do?" Resigned, and oddly emptily wounded, that question.. and quite serious. ".. I jus' keep messin' up.. did I do sommat else stupid again?" Almost plaintive, that. Still frowning, Milora seems to push her bottom lip out a little further and moves to take one of Kael's arms. "You told me that if I treated you like a person instead of like a Shadow-touched freelander you would treat me like a person instead of like a silly, little, empty-headed noblewoman. Remember when we first met? I think I've upheld my part of the bargain, because I love you ... so dearly ... and it's not because of or in spite of that stupid Mark or those stupid callouses on your hands or anything except that I /love/ you because you're so kind and you have such honourable intentions. But I feel like you push me away because you ... you dislike my world, or you don't trust it, or you don't understand it and don't want to or don't have time to understand it." ".. yer world. M' nae welcome there, Milora. Wi' be yer friend - wi' help where I can, but ye woul' nae care fer a place what did nae hae much room fer ye, either." Kael sighs, looking down - "I am /nae/ a noble, hae no wish t' be - s' a world what /is/ closed t' me, an' good riddance. But - 't donnae change me /likin'/ ye. Carin' about ye an' what y' go through. Donnae change me bein' a friend." Shaking her head: "I know exactly how it feels to live in a place that has not much room for me. If I died tomorrow perhaps everyone would have a good cry and then nothing would change - besides providing a little entertainment now and then, I have no purpose in your world or in mine or in any other world as far as I can see." Pause. "If you could even stand it for a moment, so many new things could be open to your understanding." She holds his arm a little tighter, leaning her head again the side of his arm as she matches his pace. "I know you're cleverer than you think and you like to learn, but opening a person or a world is like opening a book. You don't /have/ to go anywhere, but if you can just look at what's inside there's so much that you can ... I don't even know what I'm talking about anymore, why did you let me drink so much?" Mily sighs. "I think I'm languishing." ".. y' hae one glass, ladybright. Yer nae drunk - but s' a nice excuse t' say whate'er yer thinkin'." Kael's quite honest, there. "how y' kin stand th' stuff is b'yond me." He goes back to elsewhere in that conversation, however - "Milora - I barely ken th' world 'm in. M' startin' t' understand things, 'n folks wiser 'n me are givin' advice what 's makin' more 'n more sense - but 'm still a child, blind 'an feelin' m' way through th' dark." He pauses.. and brightly, offers.. "But Meian hae offered me a book." Odd thing to say. "That bottle was full when I arrived at the tavern," Milora points out, "and I don't remember how much was left when we left. I drink too much, these days." She's quiet for a second. "I'm sure that I wouldn't normally speak this way. Not ... ladylike or something. I don't like to disagree with people if I can help it ... but there are some people that I just /ache/ to argue with. But it's not ... oh, well." She sighs and looks up at him. "A book? ... A real book, or a metaphor-book, because I'm growing rather sleepy?" "a /real/ book.. honest t' th' Light." He seems giddy with it -... but he sobers, and points out - "Y' hide too much. Argue. Fight. Figure out - see, s' in those spaces, 'n nae agreein' on things? y' find truth." Kael's smile goes wry - "Shades, ladybright - I tol' th' Fayed t' piss up a tree. Nobody hae any answers, if y' donnae go huntin' fer 'em yerself." '''Under Lightholder Bridge ' ---- ::''Green marble arches fronted by the tall sculptures of armored soldiers span this muddy jade width of the Lightholder River, which flows beneath the Lightholder Bridge in the heart of Fastheld's Palace District. ::''The river is about ten feet deep and one hundred yards wide at this point, flanked on either side by embankments that appear to be safe mooring spots. ---- "No," Milora says vehemently, frowning deeply as they approach the gleaming green marble of the Lightholder Bridge. "In my case, the person to whom I am opposed has too many people who agree with him, or at least who support him passionately. I know that if I speak out I will suffer more than I will benefit." Apparently dropping the subject, she gives a gentle shrug. "Tell me about this book. Is it a good book? Is it a storybook or is it full of essays?" ".. I... donnae ken?" Kael blinks. ".. I mean, s' a book, aye?" He peers at her - "Milora - what are y' on about? Y' got sommat /really/ buggin' ye, an' yer talkin' in circles 'round it." "But you're so excited about it," Milora says gently. "I thought you would tell me what it was all about. As for what I'm about ..." she seems a little uncomfortable, and averts her gaze. "Never you mind, Kael Firelight. It's better that I keep it to myself, I promise." "s' nae." Kael speaks with an oddly childlike certainty - "s' nae any place fer secrets 'tween friends. Secrets jus' hurt folks, o' yerself, in th' keepin'." "How would you know? You don't tell me any of your secrets." Equally childish. She sighs. "I wouldn't force you. ... You will only try to convince me that I am wrong if I tell you what I'm thinking, and I am so tired of being told that I am wrong. There's no changing my mind, so I would rather be wrong and be thought right for not saying anything." ".. wi' trade ye then. what secrets d' I hae that y' want?" Kael shrugs. "Y' ken e'erythin' about me." "I would like you to tell me what you want Norran to know so badly. I want to know what you expect of him, and I don't want to hear any 'you can never really expect anything from that noble sort' nonsense, because I've no humour." ... She looks up at him again, curious. "I... " Kael sighs, moving away, then, to sit at the water's edge, as the two move closer - "I want 'm t' understand that... what 'e is 's nae jus'.. some sort o' thing t' wave around, an' be shiny, y' ken? 'es th /first/. Eerythin' he does 's goin' t' be th' example e'eryone else follows - b' his works, 'e sets th' way fer e'eryone else. 'e donnae see 't though. 'e coul' be... great. Sommat th' city remembers ferever. 'e coul' do so much good - like 'e did 'n East Leg." She remains standing, looking out at the water with tired eyes. At last, she nods. "I don't think Norran wants to be great. He wants to do his job as well as he can, and stand by his beliefs, and then retire at the end of each day knowing that he has done as well as he can by himself. Do not think that I would not like a hero for a husband - but I would rather he do what pleases him and honours our House. ... Why does it matter to you?" "... then he shoul' ne'er hae been a knight." That's vehiment - "'t matters b'cause I hate t' see a chance squandered, an' more 'n that... how can y' take sommat like that 'n make 't .. nothin'?" Kael sighs, "i am th' first too, did y' ken? E'ery day I feel 't - I got a responsibility t' e'eryone else wearin' this mark, e'en if /they/ donnae ken - t' be th' best I can, t' give 't meanin', t' offer sommat more. If I donnae - who will? Norran is th' same." “You were one of the first, Kael?” she says gently, dropping neatly and heavily into a sitting position with her skirts flaring around her. “I didn’t know.” She pauses, taking a deep breath. “Ummm.” "s' best I kin tell, I were.. well, mabye e'en th' first o' all. 'cept th' Emperor, th' say 'e is touched, too." Kael's quite serious. "What I do, what /any/ o' th' marked do, shows 'n what e'ery /one/ o' us do. Marked folks start hurtin' folk - an' then all o' us get blamed. We start helpin' folk, same thing. S' what Norran hae, too. Y' see?" Milora nods gently, picking gently at the cuticle of one of her fingers. For some time she's quiet - stealing occasional glances at Kael as he speaks or doesn't speak, as the case may be. "Yes, I see. So you're telling my that Norran sets an example - I knew that much. I know that he is observed more harshly because he represents us all." ".. 'es observed harshly 'cause 'e treats people poor." Kael's quite serious - "'e tries nae to, but 'e only thinks o' himself, 'n most things. How 't affects /him/ - an' in that, y' shoul' be careful o' him." He shakes his head. "I /like/ norran - allus hae. Wi' allus be 's friend, aye? But... 'e cannae treat bein' a Knight like 'e treated me, o' Sahna, o' Celeste, o' Katriana. S' nae sommat t' toy with." Silence. Milora leans back, very far back, until she's stretched out fully along the bank with her hand resting on her abdomen. For a moment she stares straight up at the sky and then closes her eyes. "By all means, carry on." No warmth. "I am listening." The young man sighs, softly - "S' enough. Y' already get mad 't me, I put m' foot 'n it again, aye?" He shakes his head. "Milora.. Norran donnae need folks likin' him. M' nae.. folks barely like /me/. Th' real me, anyroad. Th' see sommat.. else. Part, 'n think 't th' whole. Anyroad - 'e jus' needs t' remember all th' folk that are less 'n him 'n station are folk wi' feelin's an' hurts 'n life o' their own - an' if 'e kin find 't in him t' care about 'em, well, wi' give 'm room." When Milora speaks her voice is wet, and towards the end, it breaks. "I am just so tired-" and then she's quiet again, squeezing her eyes shut and stretching out her neck so that her head tilts back and yellow curls fall out of her eyes. "I suppose I don't really care. I.... ohhhhh." At that she jumps up, all too quickly, in fact, and claps her hands over her ears for a second before dropping and wringing them together. She makes a few short paces back and forth, and then collapses again and covers her face with her hands. Kael watches... and then moves over next to her, putting a hand on her back, leaning in close - "... Milora? Talk t' me, aye? yer nae alone." "I /CAN'T/." The last word is grating and overflowing with passionate timber; it scrapes both throat and diapragm and comes out definite and not at all attractive. "Can you even begin to know what it is like to be wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, and to know that you are wrong, and to be totally unable to change your own mind to make yourself believe what is /right/? I know that if I make my feelings known I will be regarded as someone who is ... oh, Kael. You'll just tell me not to bother with what people think, but I do. I can't bear to be lonesome." Relentlessly gentle, the young wolf sighs... and, quietly, offers a hug. "m' yer /friend/ Milora - y' kin talk t' me 'bout anythin'. But I cannae force ye to - jus'.. I donnae like seein' ye sad." With a little hesitance, she wraps her arms tightly around him and lets his clothing muffle her voice. "I wish I had been born a freelander." Bitter. "W' are what w' are." Kael hugs her, gently - rocking her slightly - "An' wishin' changes none o' that." "Do you know," Milora says softly, her words barely rising above Kael's skin, "... the worst of it is that I truly believe that if I told you, I might lose your friendship. You might say that nothing could take away your affection for me, and all of those things that it is appropriate to say when a friend has such a concern, but I really believe that my incorrigible mind has progressed into the unforgivable." ".. jus' /say/, Milora." Kael sighs. "Listen, ladybright - e'erythin' in ye y' keep secret? S' jus' a sore, a festerin' thing that causes y' t' doubt, causes ye t' turn o'er in yer own head how awful y' are. Believe y' me - I kept a horrid secret fer a long time; what y' keep kin be nae any worse, aye?" "And now you grow frustrated with me." Milora goes still. "It might be as bad." "Nae wi' ye - jus'.. nae bein' allowed t' help, if I can. " Kael sighs. "I wish I knew what t' say, but I donnae e'en ken what 's /wrong/." A moment passes; Milora's back begins to rise and fall slowly but irregularly. It's a form of mild hyperventilation. ... "It's Celeste." With Kael's especially perceptive sense of hearing, he may be able to /just/ make out what she says. ".. Celeste? What 'bout 'er?" Kael blinks, at that, still rocking her gently. "I can't ..." Ugh. Slowly, Milora's voice begins to rise, decibel by decibel, until it is just a soft whisper. "The things that she does. Even after I have been educated to understand and agree with her, I do not. ... I am so tired of being told that I am wrong. Please understand that I know that I am wrong." "Shhh.. donnae fret. Jus'.. talk." Kael's words are soft, entreating. There's a breath that's more like a shudder. "Night's Edge. She ... I ... it is regarded as a beacon of hope and Light, but I ..." She stops and closes her eyes for a moment. "You said that every Touched represented every other Touched, in the way that Norran represents all of House Lomasa because he's our Patriarch. But it's different. Norran is our leader, and we have to follow him ... and as nobles, we have to make distinctions and allow him to make distinctions between himself and people who are below him. I do not think that he always goes about it in the right way, but that isn't my point. But Shadow Touched people are ... Countesses and Dukes and farmboys and servants and Emperors and merchants and children and old people and men and women." ".. aye. th' are." Kael frowns.. "An' th' world th' face, along wi' th' Kissed? s' nae th' same one. 'm nae sure I ken all o what yer sayin' ... but y' figure Night's Edge is wrong fer treatin' folk th' same?" "No! Please," she begs, digging her fingernails into the man's back and shaking her head enthusiatically. "No ... please. It is exactly ... Kael. You are Touched, and there is so much in you that is bad and Shadow ... but there is so much that is good and Light as well. And I am ... and there is so much darkness and sin inside of me." Sigh. "Can you begin to see now? Light, Shadow ... both exist everywhere and as two halves of the same whole, but nothing could be whole without one or the other. Every person, you and me - grey." He nods - "Aye." With a wry smile - ".. e'en Serath said it - what w' are is up t' us t' be." Kael takes a moment... "Are ye... ladybright? When th' light came?" "It doesn't matter," she says, her voice dull now. "I embrace the Light, but I don't forsake its counterpart. Light would cease to be without Shadow ... and Kael, I think that Celeste isn't able to see things as I see them, which is good, because I am wrong. I think that if we are going to have peace ... real peace ... then we must learn to see grey. If only every priest and priestess could look at you and see a person, and know me and judge me as a person ... and not a Marked freeman or a Kissed noblewoman. I ... I ... I cannot rid myself of this feeling that if we take Light and Shadow in equal measures, and do not try to flush one or the other out, we can have balance. That is why I can not believe in Celeste's temple ... because it seems to me that it should not treat people the same because it's right to treat people the same, but because people are the /same/. That is why I asked her to appeal to her fellow priests. She could be great, you know. She could help so many more. Look at the numbers that she has behind her." Milora seems to catch herself, and goes silent, tightening her grip on Kael. "But I am wrong. I must be wrong." "... are ye?" Kael points out, softly - "Woul' love t' be a man... but 'm nae one. Nae really. Woul' love t' walk inta th' Hawk 'n Dove an' be treated jus' th' same 's e'eryone else... but 't takes folk nae bein' /afraid/ o' ye, aye?" He seems speculative.. pushing her back /just/ far enough to be able to focus on the Noblewoman's face, quite serious. "'n a summer o' two, mabye wi' nae need th' Mark anymore. I keep hopin'. But until then - w' need folk like Celeste, what are willin' t' learn 'n try. I keep hopin' maybe some o' th' ones what are Kissed by th' light wi' take th' Mark themselves." It's wry - "An' why nae? Wi' go a long way - but th' wi' nae. Until then.. wi' hae t' do th' best w' can t' change folk slow. What else is there?" "I am not afraid of you." Milora looks up at him for the first time in a while, her face wet and sincere and her eyes bright. "I think that Celeste is like Norran. I think that her intentions are very good but her way of going about this is very bad. I think that she is ... making the problem worse." Her eyes widen. "I didn't mean that ... yes, I did. But I'm sorry. But I think that she will hurt more than she helps." She closes her mouth, and then her lips part. "I feel ill. I want to go back to the tavern ... will you walk with me, or shall I leave you here to enjoy the river?" "... I.. wi' stay, if ye are a'right. Walls are a bit much fer me, yet. But... wi' think about what yer sayin', at least." Kael's quite serious. "I would not think about it," Milora warns, rising from Kael's embrace with some difficulty. "That is, if I could not. I find it gives a person a headache." ---- ''Return to Season 6 (2007) Category:Logs